The dog and the girl
by j3nnif3r84
Summary: Brown was just a dog, after all.


Brown was just a dog, after all. His memory was short, and he couldn't remember who had left him in that dirty corner of the shed. All he knew was that he was cold. He smelled something humid, nasty – something you couldn't trust. He was confused. Getting out of there was quite obviously the right thing to do, but there were walls and puddles and weird noises. So he settled for lying down in the dark, waiting.

Of course, things were going to get better, sooner or later. That warm, comforting light might come back. Perhaps it really was just a matter of time.

Brown didn't know what sadness was, yet he felt something that resembled it a lot. And possibly boredom, too. He wasn't aware of it, but puppies played and skipped around all day long. He would have liked to play too, of that he was sure, but there were still dangers reminding him to stay put. It was something he could sense. He had been there in the mud for at least a whole day now. Nobody ever taught him how to appease the pangs of hunger, so he licked slightly here and there, by instinct. The taste of filthy water was not a pleasant one, but he knew he needed it. He drank a lot, feeling his energy ebb and his desire to run relent. He had to preserve his strength, because he knew the light would come back.

And, it actually _did_.

He heard footsteps. Something was running nearby. He barked, using the last of his strength. His voice came hurling out of his throat, scratching and stinging. And that something threw open the door, so effortlessly that Brown was left stunned. The barrier he considered impassable was a cakewalk for that something.

And that something was a girl.

Brown had never met a girl before. He learned quickly that a girl is something soft and warm and embracing. The girl took him in her arms and smiled, replying to his relieved yelping with her sweet voice. His savior lavished strokes and kisses on him, not caring about the mud from his fur staining her clothes.

She unfastened her apron and wrapped it around him, drying him. She shifted some wood to make the place a little more comfortable. She worked a lot, and kept talking. Brown couldn't grasp the meaning of what she said, but her tone was calm and soothing. She spoke softly, slowly; carefully pronouncing every syllable as if she really wanted to be understood. And she always smiled.

The warmth was beautiful.

But then she went away. She closed the door behind her back, and Brown went scraping and biting and scratching it, because he didn't want her to leave. He licked from the puddles some more and then collapsed on the cloth, lying down the best he could. He managed to fall asleep only after a long time. Much to his dismay, the girl hadn't vanished when she walked outside the door. There was a world beyond that door. He soon learned the world was full of light… and food. She came back the next day, carrying pieces of bread, a great slop to suck, and some tepid water she used to massage him, washing away earth stains. Brown bit and licked, warming up in the water and then meekly letting her dry him up again. He barked appreciatively when it was over, feeling filled and smelling a wonderful, warm scent all around him.

The girl's name, he found out, was Jennifer. She kept repeating it for him to learn. And starting from now, he was Brown. He liked those sounds, and waggled happily his tail as she ran and squealed, "Brown! Brown!" to make him follow her.

His girl was amazing, and his life became much more fun with her around.

Brown had never seen other human beings before. Or at least he didn't seem to remember any. So when Jennifer brought another girl in, holding her hand and jumping merrily, Brown was a little scared.

It had been a harsh day: a rat had entered the shed, which had led to Brown becoming slightly hysterical and howling and running under a pile of clothes to hide. He stayed there, trembling in the mud, dirtying himself. So he was not happy when he ran to meet his little girl and found out there was someone else with her. The new girl looked a lot like Jennifer, but her eyes were different. She looked down at him, and Brown never felt such a tense atmosphere before.

"Is _this_ your surprise?" The new girl asked, pointing at him with a grimace. Jennifer nodded with a little too much enthusiasm.

Not a good sign.

Brown realized, though, that his girl was very fond of her friend, so he tried to approach her. She leaned down for further inspection, that disgusted look never leaving her face.

"It stinks. It's so gross."

From her tone he knew those were not fond words. When Jennifer turned around briefly to tidy up the clothes that had been turned into a foul puddle after the rat, the new girl grabbed and squeezed him hard. Too hard. Brown let out a wail before twisting out of her grip and running into safety. That girl loathed him. He just knew it.

In the next few days he didn't see her, but sometimes he thought of that strong, sweet, almost overpowering scent of hers. So very different from Jennifer's soft one.

Honestly, though, he didn't bother to worry.

His beautiful girl visited him everyday. She took care of him joyfully, she talked to him for a long time, she scratched him just fine. Months passed in this routine. Months of an easy and happy life to Brown.

Then, one day, the door slammed open.

Brown rose his head to peek, a little sleepy. It wasn't the right time. And it wasn't Jennifer. He could tell from their gestures, their voices, their smells.

In the doorframe stood many girls, each different, laughing and whispering to each other. In the front there was the new girl, the girl that hated him, a huge sack in her hand. Brown began to snarl. He didn't like that.

"A dirty sack for a dirty doggy!" Wendy screamed, and just like that all the girls were on him. Brown became confused and frightened, and he barked and howled and tried to escape, but before he knew it he found himself into the sack. Someone shut it. He was trapped. After all, Brown was just a dog, and he panicked. Had he stayed calm he could have torn the fabric open with his teeth, but he didn't and he started to move instead, without thinking. The first blow was such a surprise that he didn't even feel pain. He remained still, wondering what had happened.

At the second blow he began to understand. Danger. It didn't matter the reason.

Outside the dark, laughter and shrill shrieking. He shifted again.

Then the third blow came down, and it hurt. He felt something warm viscous spreading on his fur and skin. Wide-eyed, he shoved his muzzle towards the sack's exit, to no avail.

After that the blows were too many to count. Pain grew and grew, the warm feeling slipped away. Now he couldn't breathe any more. He kept pushing and scraping even though the pangs made him jump every time.

Then there was a flash, something unbearable. Brown yelped with all he could, he stopped. He understood. It was pointless. They wouldn't let him out.

That girl had decided to kill him, whatever her motive was. That he understood, even though he was just a stupid dog.

He gave up, closing his teeth on the canvas to vent the pain, and after a deep sigh it seemed to go away, the laughers getting distant, the smell of his own blood covering everything else.

Only then, as he died, as Wendy bent down to check if he was really dead, his grip ripped through the sack filling it with warm sunlight.

_A huge THANK YOU to the amazing youffie, who translated this little oneshot, and to Boom Dead (__.net/u/1978652/Boom_Dead__) who beta-readed it. :3  
_


End file.
